


Step 1: Honesty

by slashaholic666 (queerlybeloved777)



Series: Le Coeur du Soldat: Soldier's Heart [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Fic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Therapy, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, War Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerlybeloved777/pseuds/slashaholic666
Summary: Veela!Draco and Mate!Harry. Harry doesn’t experience the typical forewarning of a mate and accidentally accepts Draco’s courting feather after the war. Without the knowledge of how to properly end a Veela courtship, Harry rejects Draco and drives him into a fully feral state, which lands the two of them in Spring Thermals Raptor Rehabilitation Center.





	Step 1: Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> Off a year in working my math, so the Final Battle happened the first week of May 1997 instead of May 1998 (relevant to calendar dates).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize my beta was going to be participating in Nanowrimo this year, so I'm almost at the end of my draft being kept here on AO3. I would like to give her time to finish before posting the rest of the currently written chapters.
> 
> Some of the French in the notes at the bottom relates to future chapters.

"Hello", the warm brown eyes of the Healer pass from Harry's emerald green to the hooded kestrel on the nearby perch off to Harry's left respectfully, "I am Mind Healer Michel Fauconnier, and I would like to welcome both of you to the Spring Thermals Raptor Rehabilitation Center. The preliminary admissions paperwork indicated that a male Veela entered a full feral state because of unofficial rejection by a male mate, so I have been assigned to your case for mediation. Is that correct so far?"

"Healer Foo-cuh…er --"

"Healer Michel is acceptable, Mr. Potter."

"Right. See, the thing is I didn't know anything about Veela when I accidentally accepted Malfoy's courting feather, and it's all still a bit murky as to what's going on. Malfoy was more human looking this morning than --", Harry turns slightly and gestures to the resident bird of prey, "-- than this. He's awfully calm for being feral."

Healer Michel's lips twitch slightly while he watches the kestrel readjust its wings. He smooths out a wrinkle in the dark charcoal trousers of his suit and lets his gaze settle back on Harry, "Mr. Malfoy's state this morning is what we call full feral, while this is simply his avian form. His line of Veela were descended from kestrels, so his flight feathers in his more human form - when not otherwise engaged in courting or battle - are these wings on a larger scale. Have you seen his wings?"

Harry glances at the pearlescent white feather sitting on the dark wooden coffee table between his squashy green couch and the Healer's minimalistic curve of mint cushioning, "Yeah, they're quite a bit bigger than I expected. All of the feathers were white when he offered the feather and supposedly initiated our courtship, or whatever. This morning they were all a really dark, inky black, but I was a bit distracted by the beak, and the shrieking noises, and the talons, and --"

"I realize you probably have a lot of questions, but this first session is more introductory. The Veela Healers administered Calming Draught to Mr. Malfoy when they arrived at your home this morning, which is why he seems more subdued right now."

"Oh", Harry glances to his left and away at the sight of the hard to ignore brown leather hood tied around Malfoy's head, covering the bright yellow eyes of the kestrel. He fidgets with a strand of thread sticking out from a small hole in the knee of his jeans, "Is he still, er, feral then?"

Healer Michel turns slightly in his chair to pull out a pamphlet from the clear plastic shelves to his right. Harry pushes away the niggling feeling that the selection of multicolored paper with English and French questions about Veela emblazoned across the tops of each pamphlet remind him vaguely of the time he was in a muggle pediatrician's office and saw pro-vaccine pamphlets while he takes the offered paper, a creamy color that looks like parchment but is light enough that it can only be muggle printer paper with black bold lettering, 'What is the difference between a Feral Veela and a Veela hunting or in battle?'. The Healer readjusts the lay of his dress robes and motions towards the paper, "A partial feral state involves a Veela getting stuck with certain physical traits while in their human form, such as the talons, the eyes of their avian form, battle feathers, and so on. This is most commonly associated with initial rejection or the normal grieving process when a Veela loses their mate, and the Veela still retains most of their complex thinking processes. Additional rejection triggers all of the offensive traits that assist in hunting and attacking, but it is the mindset that is most dangerous in a full feral state. For the first 24 hours, the Veela is operating from a place of emotional reactions and la mort et moi."

Harry blinks for a moment or two and skims over the pamphlet, ignoring the bullet point lists of physical traits and magical maneuvers in Veela while hunting or in battle, "Er - sorry? Malfoy's the one who knows French."

Another pamphlet, this time in a deceptively soothing shade of pastel purple, is handed to Harry, "It translates to 'death and I', and this is where the Wizarding myth that Veela die if rejected by their mates comes from. Official means of ending courtship are in place to avoid this mindset, but the rejected Veela enters that small window during which they are fury incarnate and will attempt to harm their mate. The shock to their mating bond mixes with guilt and depression, especially if their mate does die, and the Veela often passes soon after."

"You just described murder-suicide", Harry swallows and shifts in his chair as a small surge of adrenaline nudges him into sitting up straighter and paying a little more attention to the wizard who is idly making notes on his scroll of parchment. He clears his throat and makes an aborted gesture with his hands full of the pamphlets, "I didn't realize I could be in danger from this."

"It can take as many as four rejections to trigger a full feral state", Harry appreciates that Healer Michel has somehow managed to keep his voice and facial expression neutral despite the clear opening for blame, "Unfortunately, there seems to have been a breakdown in communication and education, so that you were unaware of what the Wizarding community considers basic Veela knowledge even after you accidentally accepted Mr. Malfoy's courtship offers."

"Er - yeah, I guess", Harry mutters and shuffles the pamphlets into one stack while trying to not look at the manila folder that contains Malfoy and his information. It would be horribly embarrassing if his connection to the Weasleys and a certain part Veela were right there at the top of the page because he's not sure if he can just tell this Mind Healer - no matter how polite and nonjudgmental Michel has seemed so far - about the awkwardness after the war and how it hasn't been as easy to talk with his adoptive family after --

"Now, I'm sure there are many more questions you may have about Veela, Mr. Potter, but we should keep this session short enough to not stress out Mr. Malfoy. Thermal Center has an excellent library on the second floor that should cover a good deal of the basics, and your residency enables full access."

"I know the Aurors mentioned something about a short-term residency, but I'm not entirely sure how long that is?", Harry shakes off the skin crawling dread at more magical testing along the lines of what the Unspeakables were interested in when this accidental courtship began, but he has the feeling that Michel still picked up on the source of his uneasiness. The Healer smiles a small but still rather warm and soothing smile and nods slightly, "It is not safe for you to use the official means of ending the courtship until Mr. Malfoy is downgraded to a partial feral state, and as counterintuitive as it may seem, even mates who are the source of stress and rejection can help calm their Veela down. One of the attendant mediwixen will escort you to your room where your trunk has already been taken, and they will be able to give you a schedule once this session is over."

"I'm not sure why I can't just use visiting hours or keep joint therapy appointments --"

Healer Michel glances up through his eyelashes from where he has bent forward closer to his scroll with a serious expression, "We can accommodate any training or internship programs come fall, but Mr. Malfoy's recovery will be faster if you remain on the premises until it is safe for your mating bond to be severed. I can speak with our legal and media consultants about additions to your secrecy oaths, if you're concerned about doctor patient confidentiality being breached by reporters, and your expenses will be part of the bill that Mrs. Malfoy is covering since your involvement is required for her son's care."

"Er - I -- Okay", Harry tries to silence the band of guilt wrapping around something in his chest and readjusts the pamphlets to keep his hands busy. All of the reasons why he shouldn't stay here that had risen to the tip of his tongue had been thoroughly and sternly dashed, but he supposed they were fairly common from the mates being drug into their Veela's rehabilitation. Michel's voice softens as he continues, "Those silver bands around Mr. Malfoy's ankles are how the magical restraints manifest in his avian form. In his human form, the bracelets will prevent him from offensive magic and maneuvers that could harm you. You're as safe as you can be, and it actually could be more dangerous if he was unable to pick up on your presence and escaped in order to track you down."

Harry nods and sneaks another look at the leather hood. His volume drops, though he's aware on some level that all birds of prey have superior hearing that a whisper isn't going to fool, "Is Malfoy always going to wear the - the hood?"

Healer Michel hums in thought for a moment and crosses one leg over another while giving his full attention to the kestrel. Harry isn't sure if it's more disconcerting that Malfoy hasn't moved under their combined gazes or not, but the Healer doesn't appear fazed, "We combine some elements of falconry with our therapy when it would benefit the Veela and their mate, but it's largely a matter of playing this by ear. Forcing a Veela to shift into their other form is possible but not our first course of action. I would like both of you to consider which therapies and group activities you think you'll be interested during your residency and have a list ready for our next session. We can also discuss any problems or concerns with how you're settling in, get the appropriate paperwork out of the way for patient confidentiality, and such."

"Group -- Did you say group therapy?", Harry hopes his voice didn't sound quite as squeaky as he thinks it did, but based on the eyebrow quirk that reminds him of Malfoy, Healer Michel isn't entirely stoic, "We cannot force you into any group activities, Mr. Potter, but please keep an open mind while looking over the possibilities. Some are simply hobby or interest based groups that do not have overt therapeutic motives. Not all of our Veela patients are short-term residents, after all."

"I didn't -- This all just --", Harry frowns slightly at the pamphlets clutched in his hands and tries to think of a simple explanation to encompass everything that's happened today. Harry had crossed a line he'd been avoiding thinking of directly - rejecting a Veela - one too many times, and Malfoy had snapped, becoming something that Healer Michel was correct to call fury incarnate, and now they were both here to sort out what was salvageable in the aftermath. Running a hand through his hair out of a nervous habit, Harry can't think of how to transfer his thoughts - flashes of images of talons, feathers as black as his own hair, a fucking beak where Malfoy's lips should've been - into words and lets the silence settle around the three wizards. The Healer rolls his folder sized piece of parchment into a scroll and inclines his head toward the blue-gray stone bowl that's small enough to fit in Harry's hand and he'd assumed was some sort of paperweight kept for the way it seems to shimmer and reflect the lighting of the room, the flicker of flame and brightness of candles somehow captured in a glass spiral that Harry supposes is the closest wizards have come to recreating muggle bulbs. Michel tidies away his quill, notes, and file while explaining the bowl's presence conversationally, "Mind Healers utilize Memograms, which are made of blue hawk's eye because this stone can record and archive events in the immediate vicinity. It looks more blue-green up close, and those shimmering bands that seem to resemble a hawk's eye when the stone is small enough enable the stored events to contain more detail from all perspectives than a memory from one person could impart. Other than assisting with note taking, a Memogram is particularly helpful in situations like this where Mr. Malfoy will be able to hold the bowl and experience today's session with visuals later."

A knock on the door ends the Healer's sneaky explanation - how could Harry not find the casual dropping that he'd been recorded sneaky - as a mediwitch carrying a pale blue blanket enters. Harry stands slowly and avoids watching directly as she approaches the hooded kestrel because he's not sure he wants to see Malfoy manhandled like this. He nods to Michel and walks out of the soothing eggshell painted therapy room into the harsher seeming blue of the hallway, blinking at the difference. A tall, lanky man with the pale mint robes of the mediwixen nods to Harry, says something in a language he doesn't recognize, and takes off at a brisk pace to the right, speaking over his shoulder at the end of the hallway where the blue shifts shades, "My apologies, Mr. Potter, the translation spell was still in place. Please follow me to your room."

Harry follows the mediwizard down hallways in slightly different shades of blue, wondering if each color perhaps meant something about where they were, until he passes a reception desk in front of a set of lifts with a sign in English and French for 'Floor 3 - Therapy'. The wizard reminds Harry of Ron with his impossibly long strides, but thankfully, he waits for Harry and his shorter legs at the top of the landing for the next floor. Harry couldn't really blame him for taking the stairs to go up one flight, but he can't help but make a note that the lift isn't horribly far from his pine door with a bronze colored metal 4H. Long-Legs holds up a lanyard with a plastic card to the clear gemstone set into the wood roughly where a doorknob should be and flicks his wand at it, "Patient name: Harry James Potter. Patient ID: 1997M8MAL. Admitted August 1997 to short-term residency room 4H."

The gemstone flashes gold, green, and red again before the mediwizard hands the card over, "A red glow means the door is locked, and it should flash green to unlock. If you lock yourself out of your room without your identification card, please press your hand to the crystal and a mediwix will assist you."

Harry takes the offered card and slowly holds it in front of the gem, which flashes green, before pushing the door open. He flips a switch to the left of the door - a selection of swirling wizarding bulbs activate - and takes in the off-white walls, beige carpet, and unremarkably plain pine furniture silently. A chair pushed in at a desk with an inkwell and jar of quills and pencils, a small nightstand with a drawer and a shelf below it, a bed with its mattress already made up in pale blue sheets and a navy blue blanket, and a chest of drawers. It's larger than his room with the Dursley's, but it's not a room trying to impress, and Harry feels something clench in his gut when he realizes it's the uniformity that he's picking up on. He pushes open the door to the right to see a small but respectable bathroom with pale blue towels on the shelves above the toilet, a curiously bright green toothbrush inside a clear box labeled a Sterilizer next to a refillable tube of mint toothpaste on the sink, and dispensers attached to the shower walls with Bethesda's Body Wash & Shampoo. He's briefly thankful for the labels when both liquids seem to be the same aquamarine, and the mirror above the sink sounds sleepy when it addresses him, "You can use any toiletries you brought from home, dear."

Harry turns around in the doorway and looks over the room, noticing with a shudder that the only sign of it being his is the familiar black trunk he'd taken off to Hogwarts in years previous. He sets the pamphlets on the desk corner and glances back to the threshold where the mediwizard is waiting, surprisingly patiently, with a small packet of papers. Harry takes it - barely batting an eye at the staple in the corner, even if he mind does pick up on the muggleness of it - and listens quietly to a speech that sounds unrehearsed despite how often the mediwizard has probably delivered it, "There's paper, parchment, and pens in the desk if you would like to write to anyone. The small boxes on the side of the desk can be used to transport your incoming and outgoing mail between the post room and this one. You can stop by the post room should you need an owl for a package, and a complementary set of clothes can be found in the top drawer of your chest, which has Cleaning and Laundering Charms embedded in it. The meal schedule for the month has been supplied on the chart on the back of the door, which also features a map of the Center. All meals are complimentary; breakfast is 6 to 8, lunch is 10 to noon, tea is at 2, and dinner is 6 to 8. Welcome to Spring Thermals Raptor Rehabilitation Center, Mr. Potter."

The sandy brown hair seems to linger in an after image as Long-Legs sets off with his brisk pace, and Harry looks down at the printer paper with its almost nostalgically familiar font he's only seen from Muggles, brain fritzing from the overload of information throughout the day. He could look at the packet in the morning. A swish of fabric from somewhere in the hall startles him into quickly shutting the door as quietly as possible. Harry fishes his wand out of his jeans pocket and casts Tempus to see that despite the therapy session feeling like it drug on forever, it's only just now tea time. He glances to the desk and lets his gaze wander over his trunk and then the chest of drawers. Should he write a letter to Molly and Arthur explaining why he wouldn't be coming to Sunday dinner at the Burrow? Or unpack, or check in with Ron and Hermione -- No, Harry pushes away thoughts of doing while he sets the packet on the desk. He hadn't truly gotten enough sleep this morning, and there was more than enough time for a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> French
>     Created 
> 
>   * **_La mort et moi_** \- "death and I", mindset of pure wrath for the first 24 hours after going full feral in which a rejected Veela will attempt to kill their mate and the shock to the mating bond may kill them as well.
> 

>      Not Created 
> 
>   * **_Bonjour_** \- Hello.
>   * **_Fauconnier_** \- Falconer.
>   * **_Merde_** \- Shit; normal slang.
> 



End file.
